The surprisingly delightful musings of a humble Virginian whose satiric paeons to a plausible utopia implicitly shame the cynical zeitgeist of our times, causing it to cry, as 'twere, 'Damn, what was I thinking?' or words to that effect.

Bombshell: Webmaster Insists that Everybody Must Get Stoned

Prez: And that goes double for all the stiff ceremonial obeisance. What am I, some kind of demigod from an HP Lovecraft yarn?

[reporters laugh knowingly, especially all the Lovecraft-heads]

Prez: As you know, I have recently proposed that everyone on earth be given one or more strategic doses of psilocybin, or a related entheogen, in order to eradicate the devastating hatred that has bloodied the pages of history ever since history itself was invented...

[loud cheering, worryingly intermixed with a few deprecating jeers]

Prez: ...to cut it off at the source by putting everyone in touch with the oneness of life, with our fundamental connectedness with nature, and with the ontological primacy of love.

Although I'm thrilled and encouraged by the loud cheering, I'd like to address those in the audience who have just seen fit to regale me with deprecating jeers.

[more deprecating jeers, as if in sullen defiance of the Webmaster's unexpected "calling out" of the apparently shameless naysayers]

People always say that authors of radical proposals have the burden of proof.

But I beg to differ, at least in this case, since the status quo of Homo sapiens, or rather their customary MO, is nothing but wars wars wars and barbarism, and to continue with this fuming hatred in our hearts, in a world full of biological and nuclear weapons on a hair trigger, is indefensible if you ask me, and hence those wishing to confront my solution should be obliged to tell me how they expect human civilization to even survive without implementing the plan that I am outlining here today.

Questions. Yes, you?

Reporter 1: First, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you for inventing this useful and telling literary format by which you briefly assume the mantel of presidency in order to admonish and advise the recalcitrant Zeitgeist on its manifold follies.

Prez: Well, listen, I don't know about you, but when a prominent species such as Homo sapiens (of which I myself am a card-carrying member) is hell-bent on destroying itself, not to mention the planet upon which it resides, I think I have an obligation to speak up.

Reporter 1: Word.

Prez: And if it takes the creation of a whole new genre of literature in order to do so effectively, color me Kafka.

Prez: I mean, take Arkansas, for instance. It was almost turned into a radioactive crater in 1980 thanks to the accidental explosion of a nuclear-tipped Titan missile. (Hello? Does the Damascus Incident ring a bell? Or am I the only one here who read 'Command and Control' by Eric Schlosser -- or who at least saw the movie by Robert Kenner?) Fortunately, had the bomb itself exploded, the millions of dead and injured would at least have had the consolation that they were killed by friendly fire.

Report 2: Meaning, sir? Meaning?

Prez: Meaning (smarty pants) that humanity has to give up its reliance on murderous weaponry in order to survive, and there's only one realistic way to close Pandora's Box on the nightmares of nuclear technology.

Reporter 2: And that would be?

Prez: To change the hearts of humanity.

Reporter 3: Ahh! Hence your call for the mass use of entheogens to remind the world, one person at a time, that they are, in some sense, one and that the primary good is love.

Prez: Right. You done stole my thunder there, Peter, with that spot-on wrap-up, but right all the same. Peter Jennings, ladies and gentlemen, ABC News.

Reporter 4: But how do we proceed?

Prez: First, we take plants off of the Schedule 1 list of the DEA, who have stupidly (and in the face of thousands of years of evidence) maintained that psilocybin (for instance) has no therapeutic value whatsoever. (Imagine making plants illegal! The very idea!) Well, listen, I've said it once and I'll say it again: the DEA wouldn't know a cure for depression, addiction and/or anxiety (let alone a powerful religious ceremonial) if it came up and bit them on their--

Emcee: Sir, I think we're out of time.

Prez: Tell me about it. If we don't quash inborn hatred and mistrust in Homo sapiens (especially, truth be told, in the male of that species), the whole world will be out of time -- as in kerplooey!

Prez: And so do I, come to think of it -- go, that is -- secure in the knowledge that I have given humanity the answer to its long-term survival. Now let's just hope that humanity takes my idea on board and gives it a first class seat on the high-speed train of progress.

[silence]

Hey, what gives? It says right here on my index cards that I should pause for thunderous applause at this point.

[crickets chirping]

Great. Now there are even crickets chirping. Where is all the abject adulation when I need it?

[modest tittering, scattered applause]

Looks like I'm gonna have to settle for a little modest tittering and scattered applause, huh? Oh, get outta here, you knuckleheads! And go in peace, hear? Otherwise kerplooey, yes? Otherwise pea-pickin' kerplooey!